


Drabblet for geniusbee

by pushingcrazies



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bisexual!Lestrade, Drunkstrade, Gen, No plot whatsoever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-30
Updated: 2012-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-30 21:19:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/336273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pushingcrazies/pseuds/pushingcrazies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Geniusbee was having a bad day, so I wrote some Drunkstrade to cheer her up.  There is absolutely no plot here whatsoever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drabblet for geniusbee

“Hey, it’s Sherlock!  Look everyone, it’s Sherlock,” Lestrade said as Sherlock and John joined him at the bar.  “Everyone” apparently consisted of two old drunkards, Sally Donovan, and the bartender.

“Lestrade,” Sherlock replied.  “You are drunk.”

Lestrade put his hands on Sherlock’s shoulders and looked him square in the eye.  It was Very Important that Sherlock understand this.  “I know.”

“Thanks for coming down,” Sally was saying.  “I never would’ve been able to get him home on my own and you’re the only two people who live relatively close.”

“It’s no problem,” John said.  “What happened to him?”

Sally rolled her eyes.  “Dimmock and Gregson happened.  They bought him a fuck-ton of shots then left before all the alcohol caught up with him.  Great bloody idiots, the lot of them.  Especially you,” she informed her boss, who was currently frowning at the table in front of him.  Probably wondering why it was moving of its own volition, John figured.

“We’ll let him crash on our couch.  Maybe the front hall if we can’t get him up the stairs,” Sherlock said.

“I dunno,” John told his flatmate in an undertone.  “Maybe it’s worth the extra effort to get him back to his place?  I mean, you know how he gets.”

John had only seen Lestrade drunk a few times, but it was always the same, disconcerting situation; Lestrade was a friendly drunk.  A bit _too_ friendly for John’s tastes.  Sherlock never seemed to mind, which was odd, but John had long since given up on trying to understand his brain.  Lestrade had never been _this_ drunk around John, though, and John wasn’t sure what he might be like or how he might act.  John didn’t relish the thought of waking up in the middle of the night to find a hungover Detective Inspector climbing between his sheets, thank you very much.

“It’ll be fine,” Sherlock said.  He opened his mouth to say something more, but was drowned out as Lestrade took notice of John for the first time tonight.

“John!  Johnny-boy.  How _are_ you?  When did you get here?”

“Same time as Sherlock,” John said, amused in spite of himself.

Lestrade grinned.  “I like your jumper.  It’s a lovely jumper.  Is it soft? It looks soft.  Oh, it is.”

Lestrade began petting John’s chest.  Sally’s burst of laughter quickly turned into a hacking cough, and John glowered at her, wishing she would spontaneously come down with the plague right here and now.  Sherlock, for once, took pity on John and pulled Lestrade’s hands away and hefted him to his feet.

“It’ll be fine, John.  He’s too drunk to try anything even if he wants to.”

“Fine,” John groused, slapping a few bills on the bar and helping Sherlock steer Lestrade out the door.  “But if he climbs into my bed, I’m sleeping in yours.”

If Sherlock had anything to say to that, he quickly forgot it when Lestrade slapped his arse and placed a slobbery kiss on his neck.


End file.
